


Personal Trainer

by itmightgetweird



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Marvel Universe, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12034434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itmightgetweird/pseuds/itmightgetweird
Summary: You’re trying to start jogging and ask your boyfriend to help motivate you.





	Personal Trainer

**Author's Note:**

> My mind wanders when I jog like most people's do in the shower and this is what I come up with. Sorry??
> 
> Contains: a little bit of insecurity, a couple suggestive jokes, Steve is a little shit

Exercise had always been a bore to you, and now that you couldn’t rely solely on the speedy metabolism you were blessed with through the first twenty-five years of your life, you had to find a way to keep yourself fit that didn’t involve going to a gym. It would’ve been alright if you could stop comparing yourself to those around you–but they ran faster, for longer periods of time, looked better doing it…

You were ecstatic when you found a relatively quiet park close to your apartment. The paved path was over two miles and mostly flat, with tall trees that provided ample shade. You thought you were crazy for wanting to start jogging, but you knew being active in the gorgeous park would be stimulating enough. So that’s what you did.

But it was still easy to get discouraged. Your endurance sucked so you could only jog for short intervals before it felt like your lungs were going to explode. With an ache in your back and a burn in your legs, you easily resigned to only jogging in a couple bursts before deciding to just walk to rest of the path around the park.

That was until you got the bright idea to ask Steve for help. The man who ran  _miles_  every morning because he had so much pent-up energy in his body and he had to release it somehow. Steve–whose endurance would put Olympic gold-medalists to shame. He was the guy who kicked bad guy butt for a living and sure, he came back a little worse for wear sometimes, but he was right as rain after a good night’s sleep.

So no, you really don’t know what the hell you were thinking when you asked your  _perfect-specimen-of-human_  boyfriend to be your trainer…

“Oh God, I’m an idiot,” you groaned, slowing down from another bout of jogging.

It took Steve a few steps to slow his momentum and turn his head to look back at you. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Why… did I ask you… to jog with me… you’re not human.”

“I know I got an unfair advantage. It’ll just take time.”

You huffed out a noise of disbelief made a bit harsher because you were breathing heavily through your mouth. He fell into step beside you as you continued walking, taking deep breaths until you felt like your lungs were inflating normally again.

“Ready for another?”

“Steve, I just figured out how to breathe again.”

“I know, that’s why I asked.”

Your eyes followed the winding path you were on through the trees. There was a couple walking toward you, lost in conversation as they strolled along.

“Can I wait until they pass?”

“Seriously?”

You almost smacked your boyfriend’s arm until you realized he hadn’t said it in a mocking manner. His face only showed curiosity.

“You don’t want people to see you jogging?”

“I don’t want people to see me failing. That’s why I don’t go to the gym.”

“But they’re not jogging at all, so you’d automatically be one-upping them.”

You groaned again. He was right; you weren’t going to deny it. “Fine, but when I get shin splints, you’re carrying me back to the car.”

“You’ll be fine, but alright.”

You sighed and started again. The pace was slow, but you knew that was how it was supposed to be. You tried to clear your mind of everything but the rhythmic pounding of your shoes against the pavement. The tingling in your legs set in quicker than before since there wasn’t really a period of rest betweens bursts of movement. But it wasn’t long before your chest started to hurt–and this time it had nothing to do with your lungs.

“Steve, I… yeah I gotta stop.”

“You sure?”

You took a couple more breaths before continuing. “I need a better sports bra.”

Steve must not have been expecting that statement, because he released a bark of laughter before bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to laugh. Is it that bad?”

“Yeah, Stevie. Boobs suck.”

“Well, I think I’m going to disagree, but sure.”

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever, dork.”

He was quiet for a few seconds, and when you looked over you noticed his cheeks were pink, and it obviously wasn’t from exertion.

“What’s on your mind, Rogers?”

His blush deepened as he hesitated to answer. “I uh… I was going to say I could hold them if that would help.”

You could not suppress the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Oh my God, Steve. Yeah, if you could figure out a way for that to happen if we were both jogging,  _sure_.”

“I guess you’re right; that would be difficult. But,” he hopped forward a few feet then turned to face you, never breaking stride as he switched to walking backwards. A shit-eating grin spread across his face as he stretched out his arms and palmed your chest. “This is about all I got for ya.”

Your first reaction–surprisingly–wasn’t to smack him away, it was to see if anyone else was around. Luckily, no one else had come into view since the last couple you’d passed. “I’m not jogging. What–”

“Just doing my civic duty.”

“You’re an idiot,” you said with a laugh as you finally swatted his hands away from you.

He resumed his place beside you as you continued on.

Easy conversation flowed between you as you neared the end of the trail. The burn in your legs had settled into a faint tingling and your breaths were again full and deep. Which was great, because the end of the trail was always the worst. It was true that most of the trail was flat, but to get to that part, you had to walk down a pretty steep hill right at the beginning. That meant at the end, you had to go  _up_  that very same, steep hill.

You stopped at the bottom of the hill and took a deep breath.

“Think you can jog up?”

“I  _think_  you’re out of your mind,” you replied.

“How about this: walk until you get to that little section where it levels out in the middle. Then jog the rest of the way. It’s a little over halfway up.”

“You’re trying to kill your girlfriend.”

“I’m trying to show you that you have it in you.”

“Fiiiine.”

Steve set a steady pace next to you as you climbed the hill. Once you both reached the flat part, Steve lightly tapped your arm and started to jog away from you.

Not wanting to be left behind, you picked up the pace once more.

At the top of the hill, it took all your energy just to remain standing. You stopped for a moment, bringing your arms up and resting your forearms on top of your head as you focused on your breathing.

Steve placed a hand on your lower back for just a moment, to show he was proud of you. “You did great. The car’s close; you can make it without stopping.”

After one more unpleasant-sounding groan, you started walking again. The top of the hill was always the point where your back started to hurt. You rolled your shoulders, hoping to release some of the tension. Your pace had slowed and your steps felt heavier, but you were determined to keep going.

“Looking good, sweetheart. You did so well. I’m so proud of you.” Steve kept uttering praises every time you let out a louder breath or took a step that was a bit louder.

To be honest, it was a little distracting. You tried to tune it out until…

“We’re so close, darlin. C'mon, you’re being such a good girl.”

“STEVE.”

He looked at you from the corner of his eyes but didn’t turn his head.

“Are you  _trying_  to rile me up, what are you doing?”

“Just trying to motivate you to get to the car faster.”

“That’s rude.”

“Oh doll, you haven’t seen nothin’ yet,” he said, landing a playful smack on your butt before jogging off toward the car.

“ROGERS!”


End file.
